


It Drives You Mad With Jealousy

by medelrey



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Prompt Fill, a little dirty talk, in which jon is jealous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 18:27:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7372708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medelrey/pseuds/medelrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fill from tumblr user: Jon hates when all men look at Sansa, especially Littlefinger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Drives You Mad With Jealousy

**Author's Note:**

> I've been doing Jonsa prompt fills on my tumblr. This is one of them.

There are things Jon has always been jealous of; having to sit out at Stark feasts while his siblings sat at the grand table, never knowing his mother while everyone else stood close with Catelyn, knowing his brothers and sisters were bound to inherit great things based solely on their name.

But nothing compares to the hate that flares when anyone besides him lets their gaze on Sansa last too long. Jon couldn’t blame them, she was beautiful, a shining example of purity and grace. She was everything Jon had chased his entire life. Jon’s fingers crack as he digs his nails into his palm as he hears the freefolk speak about her. It’s nothing particularly lurid, they only praise her strength and her fair skin and the fact she’s kissed by fire. “Never speak of Sansa,” Jon says strongly, “I’ll not hear it.”

“Yes, Commander,” they say, terrified of the way his eyes blaze with fury. They know he’s been dead and brought back to life; a certain type of god. They’d dare not press on the toes of Jon Snow.

Jon’s sparring in the courtyard while Sansa and Lady Mormont sit atop the catwalk, watching the way he swings his sword. Sansa doesn’t much care for his form or how well he controls the blade but more about the way his muscles tighten under the linen of his tunic. Her mouth almost waters as she watches him closely, picturing their last night together. She wonders if her nail marks are so bright that they might show through the damp fabric. “I’ve not see a more talented swordsman, Lady Sansa,” Lyanna says. “He fights well, just like a Stark. And like Rhaegar, too, I suppose. After everything I’ve heard.”

“Oh. Oh yes,” Sansa says, “He’s a fine fighter.”

Lyanna laughs, “I could tell you falling down with your sword and shield was good and you’d agree with me.” Sansa giggles. How nice it is to giggle after everything they’ve been through. Lyanna chooses to explore the grounds, leaving Sansa all alone to watch her betrothed.

Jon’s too distracted by his pretty, perfect wife-to-be above him to notice anyone else had come in behind him. “Ah, your sister certainly is beautiful, is she not?”

“Baelish.” Jon says shortly. “Sansa is my cousin, actually. And my wife-to-be. ”

“Ah, I don't recall ever being asked for permission to give away my niece.”

“It wasn’t up to you. I’m King of the North and she chose me.”

“Oh, you were chosen? But for political alliance, I’m sure? There’s no love between you. You’ve suddenly become legitimized and now you think you can choose who Sansa can marry." 

"I didn't choose for her - I told you that she chose me. Sansa is free to marry any man in the seven kingdoms besides you, Littlefinger.”

Baelish looks at him for a moment. “Ah, I suppose it is an unfortunate Targaryen trait. Stealing Stark girls away from their promised.”

Jon locks his wrist around the hilt of his sword, his eyes blind in rage. “I suppose it’s also a trait for Stark women to never choose you. Hurts, doesn’t it? The thought that Catelyn chose Lord Eddard over you? And now Sansa?“

Baelish is taken aback, but recovers with a mask of indifference, “Did you know she kissed me, in the gardens at The Eyrie? Do you know how soft her cheeks are, and how gorgeous she looks with her hair darkened. Just think about it, Jon. In a different life, you know, I’d be the one she’d choose. But I demand to know; how wet does her cunt get?"

Jon’s dulled sword is at Baelish’s sternum in the blink of an eye. “Say one more word and I’ll run this sword straight through you."

“That sword is dull.”

“Then imagine what it’d feel like when I shove it through your heart. It’d be the sweetest pain and it might take a bit but you’d be dead on your feet.” Jon puts more pressure on sword, until Baelish starts to sweat and struggle.

“She should be mine.” Jon whips the sword so edge dig into his throat, never letting up until Baelish flays for air in his lungs.

“I’m going to tell you a few things. If you find me with a sword after this, it will be a real one. And I’ll not be afraid to use it. And never, ever, let yourself speak about Sansa like that. She is to be your Queen. And Sansa is not a present or an ornament to be given and display while your ambitiousness will damn well get us all killed.

Jon drops the sword at his feet as Baelish straightens his clothes. He rubs his neck where the sword has left quite the bruise. “Ah, Jon, there is it. Your second family trait; that fiery, violent Targaryen blood; it runs through you very strongly. You’d do well to remember what happens to Targaryen Kings. Your luck just might run out one day.“

"And if you speak about Sansa at all, even look at her, your luck might run out as well. We’d hate for everyone to know you pushed Lysa through the Moon Door or that you were the one who promised protection to Sansa and then sold her to those dogs. I bid you leave, Lord Baelish.”

Jon glances up after Baelish leaves. His hands are shaking so hard and he kicks the dirt beneath his feet. Jealousy, he’s sure, will be the death of him. As his eyes find Sansa’s, there’s no mistaking the wide grin across her face and the way her eyes have darkened. “Upstairs,” she calls, “Upstairs now!”

She’s already in their chambers when he arrives, Jon still breathing fast and red with jealousy. He catches her by surprise, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back to his front. “What’s gotten into you, Jon?”

“Ugh,” he groans, “I heard the freefolk talking about you and just now, Baelish. Gods, how I do hate that man. I could’ve killed him right there in the middle of the courtyard."

"Are you jealous?” Sansa giggles, reaching up to feel his curly hair.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Jon drags his lips up and down her neck, skimming the surface with his teeth. “But don’t people understand you’re going to be my wife?”

Sansa moans as he sucks his lips just under her ear. “You’re mine, Sansa Stark. And I hate when people fantasize about what it might be like to be inside you.”

“I only want to be yours, Jon. You know that.”

“I know,” he says, undoing the ties at the front of her dress. He finally manages to get his hand on her breast, gently running his fingertips across her sensitive nipples. “I want to be the only person to know what this feels like. How you feel right here,” he murmurs against her neck while sliding his hand between the parting of her things and clutching her over her small clothes. “My sweet Sansa.”

Jon can’t recognize what’s gotten under his skin so strongly. He feels like a brute so he pauses for a second. “Saying you’re mine feels like owning you. I don’t own you. But you have my entire heart.”

Sansa turns around in his arms, “I am yours. I’ll never be anything but yours. But if you don’t keep doing what you’ve started, I might just kill you again."

Jon laughs at that, picking up Sansa to throw her on the bed. He covers her in kisses, leaving small bruises on her smooth stomach, her hips and back to her neck. "Men shouldn’t have the right to look upon women like you. It drives them all mad.”

“No,” she teases, “It makes you mad with jealousy.”

Sansa kisses him once before she pushes his head down to the juncture of her thighs. She tugs on his curls and arches her hips up as his breath washes over her. “Now make me yours with your mouth.”

Jon smirks, kissing the inside of her thigh.

“And after that, if you don’t fuck me to prove I’m yours again, you’re going to be in a whole lot of trouble.

"Yes, Sweet Girl, I’ll fuck you until you’re always mine.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Pop over to my tumblr to let me know what you'd like to see! mattysigh.tumblr.com


End file.
